Boston is one of my favorite American cities, and I got the chance to visit not once, but twice in the past month—first with my family after our Montreal to Boston cruise, and then with just my husband after we did the reverse route as the first leg of Semester at Sea.
Since SVV and a couple others in our battalion had never been to Boston before, we did what every first-time tourist does and walked the Freedom Trail.
Let me just tell you that walking a 2.5-mile pathway through the most tourist-infested corridor of the city is a challenge during the summer, but tack on 100 degrees and approximately 100,000 percent humidity, and we all looked like we’d been swimming by the time we reached our first stop, which was where Paul Revere was buried.
Not his actual gravestone—actually, below is—though I feel somewhat dirty posting this picture. Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking the same. Polite thinkers that we were, our eight-person group erupted into giggles when we saw it—especially after reading the choice of words below the monument.
It took us the better part of the day to complete the walk, primarily because keeping eight people together in an uncrowded environment is hard enough, try doing the same in a very touristy atmosphere in one of the most historic cities in our country.
Plus, at one point a gaggle of women tried to entice one member, Tom, away from us to follow them around as their personal photographer.
It took ages to make it over the bridge, where we finally took a break down at the waterfront. I was ready to trudge back to the hotel at this point for one much-needed shower-and-nap combo, but my mom’s energy never ceases as she prodded us with a poker to keep everyone going until the very end. (A visit from an ice cream truck helped.)
The trail ends at Bunker Hill in Charlestown. Such a shame the inside of the monument was closed, as I was really looking forward to climbing those 294 stairs up to the top of a stuffy room, let me tell you (note the sarcasm). I did that last time I was in town, and my butt ached for a solid week afterward!
That night, SVV and I had a lovely dinner with Sues of We Are Not Martha, Susan of Transient Travels and their menfolk, before turning in at the Radisson for the night and getting up early the next day to head over the bridge and further our knowledge.
I could have gone to college here, I think—there are some definite similarities between Cambridge and the university where I spent my first two years—though something tells me if I found San Francisco too unbearably cold, I definitely couldn’t hack a Massachusetts winter.
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